This year’s festival was inferior to last year’s for several reasons in Ari’s opinion, the greatest of which had nothing to do with the city’s troubles and everything to do with the fact that she was having to bypass the hard cider stands, alas.
Really, she’d had her share of festival days without alcohol, but she didn’t have to be happy about it, either.
With a small sigh, she turned and considered a stall surrounded by children that appeared to be doling out hot cider of the more innocent variety. It wasn’t what she wanted, but…
She turned to get in line, though when she saw a (now incredibly) familiar head of long hair, it was all she could do not to curse and turn around, because of course the girl (camouflaged by her height among the far younger customers) chose just that moment to turn around and see her. The way her face lit was… well, all right, a little bit flattering, but mostly frightening at this point.
Still, ever the consummate actress, Ari smiled a friendly smile and raised her hand in a brief wave.
Celia waved enthusiastically back from her place in line, torn between getting her cider and rushing to greet her (soon-to-be) mentor. The cider was tempting, and she was next in line, so she motioned for Ari to wait (oh, please Faram, let her actually wait), ordered two cups of cider (maybe Ari wanted some? It wasn’t coffee, but it was Harvest and cider was a thing, wasn’t it?). The merchant handed her her order and she rushed over, holding one cup out to Ari.
“Hi,” she said, breathless. “I didn’t think I’d see you around. Are you enjoying yourself? They have ice cream.”
The free drinks were, in Ari’s mind, the only real benefit to this situation. “Thank you,” she said, holding back a sigh as she took the warm cup and wrapped her hands around it. “This seemed like the place to be today, and it’s hard not to enjoy a festival, don’t you think? Most of the city is here.” Which meant fewer people than last year, but what could one do?
“It’s too chilly for ice cream,” she added thoughtfully, “but by all means, don’t let me stop you. I think I’ll limit myself to cider and pie today.” Though ‘limit’ was such an improper term for the sickening amount of pie she would likely consume.
Well, she’d already had ice cream earlier, anyway. And she liked pie. Pie was clearly superior to ice cream. Obviously. “I like pie,” Celia chirped. “I hear that there’s some really good pie at a stand not far from here. I can buy you pie.”